Successor to Evil
by DrewCaine
Summary: Not being able to wait for the next game, I decide to continue the series on my own. Even with Ozwell and Wesker out of the picture, there are many other plot points that I believe can plausibly be addressed. drewcaine4-24-09
1. Chapter 1

"_The Wesker children were entrusted with endless potential. Of them, only one survived—_you­_."_ ~ Ozwell E. Spencer, _deceased_

March 9th, 2009—BSAA agents extracted from volcanic site west of African continent: C. Redfield; S. Alomar; J. Valentine; J. Stone

Mission Status: Primary target –Ricardo Irving­—deceased; objective failed

Four debriefings received concerning:

The loss of Alpha Team led by Dave DeChant

The Kijuju riot(s)

Details concerning J. Valentine's capture

Files gathered concerning the origins of the Umbrella viruses

Two black market bioweapon suppliers

The 'Uroboros Plan'

C. Redfield's report on the death of terrorist A. Wesker

S. Alomar's report on the death of terrorist E. Gionne

A request has been made to investigate the Global Pharmaceutical Consortium

A request has been made to disband Tricell, Inc. – Africa and to also investigate other Tricell branches

Chris's hand swept across the portrait of his father, hanging from the spacious walls of his suite. The man that had birthed the remarkable marksman bore an uncanny resemblance to his son—the latter had nearly no physical characteristics of his mother.

"Dad…I can finally live in peace," he breathed, resting his head against the creamy walls. "I avenged my comrades…and she's alive."

_I am proud of you, son. You have lived up the name 'Redfield'._

"I'm going to continue fighting bioweapons…life is stressing, but I'm not letting those memories hold me back, Dad. I'm going to live my life for myself now."

Turning away from the framed image, Chris stepped over into his living room, the soft carpet nurturing his sore feet. He yawned, weary from the annoying conversation he had had with Dr. Philips only an hour ago.

"Chris, you have been through one _hell_ of a life." The nearly bald man sifted through the younger man's psychiatric folder.

"You can say that again," mutter Chris, adjusting his shirt collar. They were stressed to the max having to cover Chris's massive build.

Smiling, the psychologist set the folder down; only the ticking of a nearby grandfather clock bounced of the walls of the medium-sized office. The man had many books crammed into old shelves and odd trinkets.

"Well, I am happy to say that you can get your life back on track," Dr. Philips informed him. "Even with the state of the world today, you said yourself your personal issues are over." Chris nodded in response, smiling somewhat. "Well,

"In order to fully put your past behind you, you must confront it. Do you feel comfortable talking about 'it'?"

"…isn't this one big family reunion?" the blonde man said slowly, jet black boots carrying him down the dusty stone steps. Chris felt his heart skip another beat as the old captain reached his level, leisurely drawing himself closer to the cloaked woman.

_Bastard…what's he getting at?!_

Smirking, Albert Wesker placed a gloved hand on the mysterious person's shoulder. "I would expect you to be _happier_ to see 'us'." The smirked formed into a mischievous grin, the man's eyes obscured by beep black, reflective sunglasses.

Chris cocked his head to the side, his Sig still trained on the cloaked woman. "_Us?_"

Wesker grinned, pulling back the hood…

"After Jill's 'death', my life pretty much went downhill from there," continued Chris, staring down at the heavy wooden desk. "I suppose you could say that this mission was the turning point from my life, bringing me back on track. I suppose I got to the root of the problem…"

The counselor had to hold back a laugh. "Good, good.

"Well, I suppose we've made great progress today," the doctor stated, bringing the session to a close.

The Chinese woman sighed, and she accepted the message sent to her PDA, shutting off the annoying beeping.

"Agent Wong—how fares the battle?"

The female smirked. "As always; I'm sitting here enjoying a nice meal at the local club and then you come along asking for my services." Setting down a glass of blood red wine she asked, "What is it now, professor?"

"I managed to extract several files from the BSAA's mainframe, and I have some rather interesting news to share with you.

"First and foremost, the threat of Umbrella is truly diminished—_he's_ _dead_.

"In fact, the old man himself is history—killed by _him_." At this, the professor laughed.

"And finally, it seems that we need to tighten the leash on the GPC. An investigation is currently taking place within each of the companies, so I suppose it is safe to say that the production of B.O.W.s will be shut down soon. Very soon."

"What about…_'S'_?" she whispered, lowering her head to keep her voice from being heard by the other rich diners.

"Ahh, the _other_ antagonist of Spencer…I have no further leads on them."

"Is there any way we can uncover Wesker's files? If we can locate his 'command center'—"

"We will repossess all the research data, and maybe even uncover this 'corporation'. I will say, they have done a fine job of keeping themselves behind the curtains, even with the backstage revealed." Ada heard a small sigh.

"Ada, I would like for you to go to Rockfort Island," the professor said calmly.

_Yeah, you can easily tell me to fly around the world a million times…no big task for you._

"Rockfort Island?...wasn't that the site of a chemical spill concerning the our ASF team and Alfred Ashford?"

"Yes, it was. We had sent him in to capture Alexia Ashford; unfortunately, though, the fool only succeeding in facilitating the demise of the remaining Ashford family. No matter, though…it was reported that a satellite had fallen from orbit and fallen somewhere near the island—"

Ada caught on. _It's the satellite Wesker must have used to observe my movements in Spain…_ "I suppose I'll get a private jet again?"

"Be at the GPC airstrip in three hours."

The transmission was ended, and Ada engaged the device to the holdster on her thigh, indifferent to the assignment. Closing her eyes, her mind trailed off to a person that had been predominating her dreams at night…

=*=*=*=

So things have calmed down ever since the curtain closed on the great villain, Albert Wesker...Chris is finally resting--

--but who is this woman? This man?

Umbrella has fallen...but who or what is attempting to work around and in the ruins of this old company for their own benefit?...

drewcaine4-27-09


	2. Chapter 2

In the shadows of a hidden complex, a duet of mysterious personae trade obscure words; the President of the United States gives an arduous task and briefing to a BSAA agent.

=*=*=*=

His vision was incredibly blurry; fading in and out, he let out a moan, slowly coming to.

The room he was in was obscured by darkness, only a faint, flickering light positioned directly above his head allowing vision of about three feet before him. The concrete was separated by a metal grate, cables snaking through the light and into the impenetrable darkness. Looking to his left, Leon noticed a smooth, well-kept machine, humming softly, even pleasantly. IV tubes leading from it and into his neck. To his right, a cabinet of what looked like unlabeled medications and chemicals.

Unbelieving, the government agent simply groaned: "Shit."

=*=

"It would be a…twist of irony, I do believe."

The female doctor grinned, raising a syringe harboring a disgusting create that resembled a twisted, one-eyed fetus; the thing was suspended in reddish-amber fluid. Flipping her long blonde hair, she said, "Yes, it would…the man who once defied the Plagas, will become a host for the next stage of this wonderful creatures' development.

The blonde-haired man turned the page of his molecular biology book. "The subject has a detailed history…similar to one Valentine, he possesses a refined sense of justice; however, I have heard that his naivety is unmatched by any of this other cretins."

"Yes, it is…either way, he shall be redeemed." Grinning, the she-researcher cautiously packed the capped syringe into her sample case and strutted out of the lab, leaving the blonde-haired man to his own business.

In the long, simple hall, the woman thought about her arrival at the confidential research facility of the mobile ship. At first, she had skeptical of working with the new authority, but after spending a month with him she felt she could see eye-to-eye with the older man now.

_Despite the fact that he has almost no recorded history, I feel like I can trust him…he's highly apathetic to the level of terrorist attacks that have been occurring recently, but that has nothing to do with us. We are practically 'invisible' in this vessel, so nothing can impede our activities._

Arriving at a vault-like circular door, about twice her height and six feet wide, the researcher removed a card labeled "OPN Level 8"; breathing heavily, she slides the card through the reader. A second later, she leans forward, ready for the retinal scan. After three seconds of light dancing over her deep blue eye, the readout read: "Assistant Research Cher Athena, Access Permitted".

The heavy wheel set into the center of the door spun, releasing the locks holding the door shut firmly. After what seemed like forever, the vault door began to creak inward, revealing a massive expanse of darkness. Cher stepped inside, heading immediately for the pale blue light at the end of the room.

As she walked across the room, lights activated on both sides of her, revealing a long catwalk that extended over a poll of water and flanked on both sides by high tubes; some contained nude bodies of humans, their forms impeccable.

At the end of the walk, Cher stood before the half-naked body of Caucasian man in his early thirties. He was unconscious, his long hair draped over his shoulders, bangs obscuring his eyes. His wrists and ankles were bound with restraints made of a metallic allow, not allowing any movement.

Taking out the syringe labeled "LP00L/K", Cher coughed, and said, "Wake up, test subject!"

=*=

January 2010—C. Redfield receives an assignment from the President Graham after returning from a nine month vacation

J. Valentine's antibodies have created a major breakthrough in the war against bioterrorism. A credible research team of the U.S. Government manages to create a prototype chemical capable of resisting the G-virus

S. Alomar and J. Stone effectively manage to restore Kijuju to stability, thanks to efforts of TerraSave, now led by C. Redfield

The Uroboros specimen salvaged from the volcanic area near Africa disappear

The BIC (Biohazard Investigative Committee), formed by Director 'D', responsible for managing the GPC, begins investigation of Ophion, the final company in the GPC

=*=

"Our finest agent, Leon Kennedy, has been missing ever since the Harvardville incident. We haven't been able to trace him ever since." The President wore a mournful look on his weathered features. "We believe you may be our last hope of finding him, Mr. Redfield."

Chris's grip tightened on the arms of the cushioned wooden chair.

_Leon…Claire has told me about him, and I haven't seen him since before Rockfort…what could've happened to him?_

"Harvardville…Claire told me about it, but what exactly happened?"

The President closed his eyes, more line showing on his face. "The T-virus was unleashed on an airport; Curtis Miller, who had been a former activist in TerraSave, foolishly infected people with the virus. Once the curtains closed, we discovered that an agent of WillPharma had bribed the poor man into committing the act of terrorism. Curtis was destroyed, along with the company's research facility. We took the agent into custody after uncovering his links to the black market.

"After Agent Kennedy departed from Harvardville, the helicopter was shut down over the Arkansas River…Leon's body was never recovered."

Chris looked down at his feet, frowning.

"We have reason to believe that the kidnappers are operation by an amphibious method of movement. No traces of land disturbances were observed," President Graham added, looking over to a statue of George Washington to his right. "Also, we have another problem on our hands…"

Chris gasped.

"Our specimen of the Uroboros virus…it's been stolen."

"_Uroboros is on the eve of its appearance."_

Chris sat there, jaw dropped to the floor. _Goddammit!_

"Sir, you _can't_ be serious—it's _gone_?!" He lunged forward in his chair, upper body over the hardwood desk of the President.

Leaning back, Graham nodded. "Yes. I received what information you uncovered from Africa…I understand the danger of this virus. I put only the most reliable personal on the research team; I gave them the best facilities, but it seems even that is not enough in today's world of information espionage."

"Uroboros…it's the deadliest thing out there," muttered Chris, recalling the memory of facing the creatures unleashed by Tricell's former director.

Sheva kept the gun trained on the writhing mass before them, her heart beating like a machine gun. "So Uroboros _is_ a new B.O.W.!" Scowling, she shouted, "And you're planning on selling it to terrorists!"

The condescending accented voice floated down from the speaker system. "Hmmm…good guess—

"But _no_. While it does resemble the B.O.W. based on the Progenitor virus, I have no intention on selling it to terrorists."

Chris looked up at the observation room above, eyes narrowed. "Then what are you using it for?" he yelled; the snake-like things suddenly receded into the gray flesh of the nude bald man.

There was a slight pause.

"_Evolution_. It's a Philosopher's Stone, one that will choose through DNA who shall proceed to the next stage. My vision, and his combined, now made a reality."

Chris trembled, returning to the world at present. _But how will Uroboros spark evolution? I haven't seen any successful person bond with the virus…well, unless you count Wesker._

"Chris, I have seen great improvement in you psychiatric evaluation, and I would like for you to take up this case. I would also like your partner to accompany you."

Chris frowned. "Jill? I can't let her go, sir."

"Why not?"

Chris shook his head subtly. "She's been through too much…I want her to live her life the way she chooses. I've even asked her to resign from her position."

The president stared him down for a moment. Finally, he spoke. "Fine. You may form a team of you own, then. I will, however, inform Valentine of the mission, and she can contact you with her decision.

"You are dismissed, Redfield."

As Chris walked away from Graham, a voice from the past walked through his thoughts, one that stood out from the rest.

"_Every day humans come one step closer to self-destruction. I'm not destroying the world—I'm saving it."_

_And just how is this saving the world, Wesker?_

=*=*=*=

So the plot is thickening...is the test subject and the missing agent...the one and the same? And the Uroboros sample is gone...who would have wanted to steal this? Why does Wesker still loom above these individuals?

drewcaine4-27-09


	3. Chapter 3

As Chris and Jill prepare for their mission, two mysterious individuals discuss events from the past...

=*=*=*=

"Chris!"

Spinning on the spot, Chris already knew Jill had found him. "Jill, I can

explain—"

The now-blonde woman gestured for him to be quiet. "No, listen, Chris.

"I just dug up a report on the Ophion company…it seems that two years ago they purchased millions in dollars of a special kind of titanium allow, resistant to water and rust effects." She grinned, seeing the figurative light bulb above her partner's head.

"Ok, I see where you're getting at," he said, grinning. "Listen, Jill, you already know how I feel about this, but if you want to come then you can; you won't be going alone, though, I'm gonna assign some guys to you."

Jill stared him down. "I don't care, Chris—I'm taking this mission either way. You are _not_ going without me."

Grinning, Chris merely motioned for her to follow him. "Copy that."

=*=

With the tap of a black-gloved finger the man brought up an image of a young blonde woman, dressed like a cowgirl.

"Her name is Ashley Graham," he told the blonde-haired researcher.

Cher, smiling at the find, scribbled down the name on her clipboard. "And she was rescued by Mr. Kennedy? Does she have traces of the Plagas in her as well?"

The man smiled. "That's why I called you here, Cher." He stood up from his seat and paced about the meeting room, disrupting the projector's beam. "In 2004, I was observing the movements of the American government and an entity known as 'The Agency'. Ashley Graham had been kidnapped by a religious cult calling them 'Los Illuminados'; Leon managed to extricate the girl from Spain and defeat the leader of this group…or so he thought."

Smirking, the man continued, stepping behind his laptop and bringing up more files. "The religious group was using the parasite we have with us—the Las Plagas—to control the bigots. Another corporation, known only as 'S', was also present in Spain; they had deployed a shady agent known as Ada Wong. While Kennedy's objective was to simply rescue the President's daughter, this 'spy' was charged with recovering the Master Plagas sample. In the end, the cult's leader, Osmund Saddler, was exterminated, and the sample…disappeared."

Cher questioned, "'Disappeared'?"

The man nodded. "I have reason to believe that it could have gone to two separate entities: 'S' or 'The Agency'."

Cher thought for a moment, looking over the images displayed on the projector.

"Well, you implied that something else was recovered from Spain…"

"Yes, we managed to capture several villagers, as well as part of the remains of Mr. Kennedy's 'friend' from the government." He adjusted his reading glasses. "Also, a small amount of research data was salvaged from the remains of the cult's island."

"I see." Coughing, she pushed further, "And that is how you created the 'Guardians', am I correct?"

The man's eyes trailed over to a cloaked figure standing near the entrance to the meeting room. "Yes…yes, it was."

A month ago…

The silver-haired researcher plunged the needle into the mutilated human, a grin slowly creeping across his face. The test subject was nude and her skin a pale gray; she was unmoving, yet conscious. Finishing with the injection, the administer took a step back, observing the coming results—

The female's eyes widened horribly, and she started spasming, gasping for air. As the thrashes and sounds continued, they escalated to a loud, inhumane level, and her skin began to bubble; her eyes flashed yellow for a moment, then red…and eventually they halted, displaying cat eyes.

"So…this is the ancient parasite," muttered the man, watching as the subject calmed, falling back to the solid operating platform. "The Las Plagas, truly fusing with a subject…

"Stand up," he suddenly ordered, hitting a switch to release her bonds. The subject instantly followed the command, rising to her feet with resolute strength.

_This is it…no serious mutations yet it is following my orders directly._

"Follow me."

As the man turned and walked over to a testing chamber, the test subject hopped down to the floor and followed him closely, walking with human perfection.

_I just need to test its combat—_

A painful scream suddenly erupted from the female; spinning around, the researcher gasped a he saw the subject on her knees, thrashing about. Her skin appeared to be segmenting, the multiple 'pieces' rippling, turning a chromatic black. Gasping, the man realized what was happening.

_It's possibly affecting the insect DNA that was injected into it…this is…_

"Remarkable," he breathed, watching as the last human remains of her—her face—was broken and twisted into the visage of a black praying mantis. The only physical trait that remained was her inhuman eyes, now glowing as bright as the sun.

"I suppose this is not truly a failure…I think I have a use for it."

"The 'Guardians'…what a brilliant mutation," the man stated loudly, and Cher nodded.

=*=

The BSAA chopper zipped through the skyways, the humming of the blades faint, but in a powerful way.

_This chopper won't be taken down…there's a built-in system specifically designed for taking out any projectile thrown at us._ Chris was truly assured by this as he gazed out of the nearby window of the cabin, seeing the city of London below him.

"London…" he let out; beside him, Jill overheard him.

"Never thought I'd be coming back to Europe again," she said, her voice nearly inaudible.

Jill and Chris weren't on their usual mission, as they were dressed as political agents. Jill wore a skirt, tight jacket, and snake-skin boots; Chris's attire was akin to generic male formal wear. His hair, however, was gelled; he had also shaved immediately before boarding the plane, with Jill yelling at him for holding up the flight.

However, there were two armed BSAA agents on board as well. They were equipped with advanced body armor and the latest military weaponry, obtained after the U.S. military officially agreed to back the anti-B.O.W. organization.

The BSAA agents' assignment was to investigate Ophion Development, Inc. due to suspicions that a past project was linked to the disappearance of an American agent name Leon Scott Kennedy. Ophion's main office was revealed to be located in London, England.

In the cockpit, the rapid beeping informed everyone that they were being contacted. The copilot opened comms.

"This is Secretary McConnell of Ophion Developmentals, Main Branch. You are approaching our private airstrip. Please confirm that you are within your rights to do so."

The copilot nodded and responded. "This is the BSAA; we have proper credentials, ma'am."

There was a slight pause, and muttering. "Ahh, the BSAA…you are just in time for your reception. We await you on landing pad number three."

The line was dropped.

_Waiting for us…_

Deep within the laboratories of the main office, something stirred…something was ominous red eyes, the only visible part of the thing's face that could be seen. Leather straps covered the rest of its face, and long hair draped down over it chest that was covered with a shining cloak. Letting out a loud, shrieking hiss, it raised its head, staring into the single security camera that had intruded upon its privacy for a month now.

=*=*=*=

What awaits the two BSAA agents on their mission? And why are these two shady characters perusing data concerning the Las Plagas? Is there more to the past than meets the eye?

drewcaine4-27-09


	4. Chapter 4

Having been assigned to Europe for the investigation of Ophion Developmentals, Inc., Chris and Jill are led to the private underground area of the office, hoping against hope that, for once, the assignment won't actually go wrong. Meanwhile, an aged comrade reminisces about the past.

=*=*=*=

Hopping onto the ground, Chris shielded his eyes against the forceful that was chopped by the bird's blades, grunting lightly. Jill followed suit, holding her skirt in place.

"Welcome to our company, Mr. Redfield." The voice was French and effeminate.

Seeing the young businessman, Chris nodded and responded politely, offering his scarred hand; it was taken by the Frenchman. "Thanks."

"We don't get many visitors here, so it's always a pleasure to sit down and chat with anyone, I must say. Ophion doesn't have much of interest to the general public, unlike the other pharmaceuticals…"

Chris's smile dropped somewhat; he followed behind the man, being led to a small tower in the distance. "I sure hope not…"

Jill, hearing him, whispered, "Not much business?...maybe they might really be hiding something, since they don't have much on the frontlines."

_If they are, they're definitely not trying to hide behind some false friendly structure…the files said they don't deal with medicine or anything like that._

When the three of them arrived at the tower, the Frenchman grinned, pushing a small button on a violet panel. "Our facilities are very luxurious inside; our offices are equipped with the greatest and best commodities of this decade," he assured; the concrete wall actually _slid_ open in opposite directions, revealing a small sitting room with windows…

_But the windows face the concrete…what's the point of that?_ Chris blinked thrice, bewildered.

The man waved gently. "Just step inside…have a seat." He pointed towards one of four chairs about a round table; Chris and Jill sat, confused. Above them, inset lights illuminated the small quarters—

--the wall suddenly closed; Chris looked around, suspicious—

And the man's stomach shifted upwards a bit, causing Chris to realize what was going on.

"This is the latest model of floor-to-floor transportation technology," explained the Frenchman gleefully. "Elevators. Elevators designed to offer rest and simple space for employees to make the use of their time passing maybe…thirty floors."

Jill was astonished. "That's…amazing."

Chris was gazing out the windows, seeing that they were descending past the windows of many different offices about three hundred feet away from them. "So, what is this complex like?"

"The main branch consists of an above-surface building of four floors that serves as the location for the general and executive offices of Ophion. As you can see," he gestured to the windows, "we are currently in one of the central shafts at the center of the building. Around us is the grand foyer, where we will occasionally set up attractions exclusive to the individuals we serve. All around us, our employees work in comfortable offices, hold meetings, and participate in graduate and undergraduate presentations and symposiums—courtesy of the world's many great universities."

As the man went one, the elevator continued to descend…

=*=

The heavy .44 jumped in the strong hands of the bearded man, blowing the rotting face of an infected male into pieces that splattered the wooden door of the old shack. Without a single moan, the body hit the trash-littered floor was a muffled crunch, not moving anymore. Nothing else in the room moved, perhaps paralyzed by meeting a similar end that the zombie had.

"Nice shot, pal," complimented a Hispanic man behind him; he had taken up the rear. Nodding, the point man stepped inside the shack, flashing the beam of his light over packed shelves and a cluttered table. "…"

Barry Burton's life had taken a new turn after hearing Chris's troubled debriefing of his mission to rescue Claire Redfield from Rockfort Island. The young man had departed shortly after, telling him that he was going to locate other Umbrella facilities and shut them down ("Alone, if he had to," Barry recalled)…

"Chris, did something happen out there?" Barry persisted, sensing that something else was troubling the marksman. Chris, however, simply shook his head, not looking at Barry; he just stared at his monitor, information concerning an Umbrella factory in the Caucasus region of Russia.

Sighing into the dark, Barry said, "I want to know, Chris…Claire told me there was something else wrong besides your encounter with that psycho woman. What was it?"

Shooting up, Chris stared straight into his comrade's eyes, face distressed. "Ok, fine, Barry: _he's alive_."

The sparse bedroom was deathly silent.

_He's alive…who—wait…no…_

Barry tucked a giant hand into his pocket. "Who, Chris?"

Chris paced about the room, his bare footsteps muffled on the poor carpet that had been laid on the dusty wood-planked floor. "He—Captain Wesker, was there…"

Barry's blood temperature rose by several degrees. _Captian…captain _goddamn_ Wesker?!_

"He cornered me once in a lab—nearly killed me, and again—he took Claire—and I fought him." Chris faced Barry with a pale white face. "I came back because I got _lucky_."

Barry searched for something to say, but the only things racing through his mind were memories of their hellish night at the Spencer Estate, back in 1998—

"_hehehehehe…ya gotta love Barry. He must really be afraid of Umbrella."_

"_What about my family?!"_

"_Good work, Barry."_

"_hehehehe…Jill and Barry, together—IN _HELL!_"_

--a warm hand grasped his hard shoulder, and Barry dove back into the present, seeing the boyscout face of Chris.

"Barry, don't think about it," he said firmly, and Barry nodded. "I don't really get how he survived, or what he was doing on that island, but we'll take care of him when the time comes."

Smiling, Barry locked the thoughts away. _Thanks, man._

However, Barry hadn't heard any word from Chris concerning Wesker during his further exploits into the malicious maw of Umbrella. Four years later, while the bear of a man had been off in Canada spending quality time with his family, Chris and Jill had managed to organize a foreign anti-Umbrella group in Russia; Barry had been informed of their mission to assault Umbrella's final operational factory.

Barry sat at his desk, listening to Chris's labored words.

"Jill and I managed to convince the Russian government to forcefully put them down," he explained through the phone, and Barry nodded. "Ok."

"Barry, Jill and I have been talking…this might be our last mission."

Eyes widening, Barry's head shot up, and he growled, "Don't say that, Chris! You've come this far, how can you say that? Umbrella will be done for, and you two can come home!"

He heard Chris muttering negatives in the background. "Barry, listen to me…

"While we were scoping out this village, Jill and I ran into _him_ again—"

"Wesker," Barry growled, hand to his head, sweating."

"—we barely survived the encounter…he has a lot of info that belonged to Umbrella, and I think he knew that there was a facility out in the Caucasus…in that village. He used that against us…he sicked some B.O.W.s on us.

"Wesker got away, and we think he's still close by…he'll probably be at the factory.

"Anyway, how is Rebecca doing?" Chris's tone shifted to a more settled state.

"She's fine, she's keeping us up to date on what's happening down south…she got that secretary job in D.C…"

Then, in 2006…

The warm tears tickled down the man's clean-shaven face, staining his black jacket. The warm August breeze swept across the pasture, the brilliant orange of the setting sun splashing its life on the still silence of the scene.

The former S.T.A.R.S. comrades were all present…Chris, Rebecca, Barry. Chris was kneeling before the headstone, surprisingly not sobbing; he was gripping a bouquet of brightly colored flowers.

"She was the toughest…" Rebecca said aloud, hand to her heart. "I can't believe it…"

Barry didn't say anything; but his fists were clenched tightly, and he could feel the blood squeezing out from his veins…he had heard of his partner's selfless action. Jill was the reason Chris was still here.

"…she died for us," the broken man suddenly sobbed.

Stepping forward quietly, Barry laid a touching hand on his shoulder.

"…she can't be gone."

Rebecca fell beside him, crying into his broad shoulder, as the headstone eventually became a silhouette before the mighty star.

BSAA

Jill Valentine

1974 – 2006

=*=

Chris watched as Jill scribbled down some notes in her pocket notebook. He glanced behind him at the door as if expecting someone to walk in like a scolding mother having caught her child stealing brownies from the kitchen after bedtime.

"Ok, Chris, got it," she said, grinning.

"Yeah, now we should get out of here before that weird guy comes back." Sliding the folder back into the filing cabinet, Chris followed Jill back into the bland hallway, seeing no one in the corridor.

The Frenchman had taken them to the third basement level of Ophion to show them the labs, as was recorded in the official file the two agents carried with them. _In order to prove they are legitimate,_ recalled Jill, _they have to allow us to observe any experiments being carried today and also allow us to comb through their company's files and records._

Taking a seat on one of the cushioned lounge benches, Jill yawned. "I'm ready to go home…"

Grinning, Chris adjusted his shirt collar. "Well, I really don't know what the guys will say about that…I mean, they never actually had possession of the virus—"

"They wrote a speculative report on the G-virus, Chris, and that's not exactly incriminating evidence," the harsh female piped up. "I'm sure university scholars write papers of things like this, too…they're not wrong. However, there's something that caught my eye that I couldn't get to…"

_The folder about something called L…P…LK…God, I forgot it now—_

"Sorry about that, friends."

Jumping slightly, Jill was thrust out of her concentration and back into the circular room, surrounded by the cold metal-alloy of the underground. In the back of her mind, however, something was bugging her...

And those initials weren't just some kind of coincidence.

=*=*=*=

What lies beneath the main office of the Ophion corporation? Where exactly is Barry now, and who is this person he is with? Is he gay (lol, just joking, fellas)?...anywho, it's good to see that some light has been shed on him; but where has he been in the four years between 2006 and the present? What about Wesker's influence?--his cursed name somehow always comes up. And Rebecca...what work does she actually do?

And finally...what is it that Jill Valentine just can't seem to remember? Is it even significant?...

To be continued in the next chapter!

drewcaine4-27-09


End file.
